His tone gradually softened; he took on an air of patient magnanimity.
Snyder broke in with a sneer.
"Look here, Jim, don't try the goody-goody business on me. You think you're mighty smooth and you're mighty good and you're gettin' on pretty fast. Your picture in the papers is mighty handsome, and you looked real swell in them fine clothes up at the banker's talkin' to that girl."
"That's another thing," said Wheaton, still standing. "I ought to refuse to do anything for you after that. Getting drunk and attacking me couldn't possibly do you or me any good. It was sheer luck that you weren't turned over to the police."
Snyder chuckled.
"That old preacher gave me a pretty hard jar."
"You ought to be jarred. You're no good. You haven't even been successful in your own particular line of business."
"There ain't nothing against me anywhere," said Snyder, doggedly.
"I have different information," said Wheaton, blandly. "There was the matter of that post-office robbery in Michigan; attempted bank robbery in Wisconsin, and a few little things of that sort scattered through the country, that make a pretty ugly list. But they say you're not very strong in the profession." He smiled an unpleasant smile.
Snyder drew his feet from the table and jumped up with an oath.